


Midnight Conversations

by When_Tommy_Met_Alfie



Series: When Tommy met Alfie AU [6]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie/pseuds/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie
Summary: When your brother starts sleeping with an absolutely terrifying and possibly slightly insane gangster, what is a man to do? Arthur worries, and attempts to live up to his own ideas of what being an older brother entail. Because leader of the Peaky Blinders or not, Tommy is still his little brother.AU set during season 1/2





	Midnight Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone up for some tooth rotting fluff set in an AU where everything’s okay and nothing hurts? Originally posted on my tumblr, where I post Super Real Quotes™ under the same url. You can go there if you'd like!

Tommy does his best to shut the door quietly as he enters the house, but of course it lets out an ungodly screech that could wake the entire household. It’s ridiculous, really, acting like a disobedient child sneaking out without their parents’ permission. But he’s a bit drunk, and guesses he’s looking more than a little disheveled after Alfie’s rather… enthusiastic goodbye. All in all, he’d rather not be met by Ada’s innuendoes, or John’s disapproving looks.

“Tommy?” A voice comes from the kitchen and he freezes on the first step of the stairs. Groaning inwardly, he gives up the hope of just going to bed unnoticed, and makes his way to the kitchen. He instinctually tries to fold his collar up to cover the marks on his neck, only to discover that he’s not wearing his coat. Come to think of it, he’s not wearing his hat either. Are they still in Alfie’s car? He’ll just have to hope he brings them when he returns from London later in the week. Arthur is going to have a field day with this. He attempts to at least smooth back his no doubt tousled hair, and make sure all his shirt buttons are closed, before entering the dimly lit kitchen to find his older brother sitting by the table with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, of which one is half full.

“Tommy!” Arthur exclaims a little too loudly upon his little brother’s entrance. Tommy eyes the bottle.

”Arthur, are you drunk?”

“No, no. Alright maybe just a little. But that’s not the point. I need to talk to you. You know, older, wiser brother to… younger, more reckless brother.”

“How long have you been sitting here waiting?”

“Doesn’t matter! Would you please just sit the fuck down?”

Tommy sighs, but knows that more often than not, it’s better to comply with Arthur’s wishes. He makes a move to sit down opposite to his brother by the table, but Arthur downs the rest of his glass, shakes his head and motions toward the spot next to him on the kitchen sofa. With a slight eye roll that seems to escape Arthur’s attention, Tommy sits down.

“I’m guessing this has something to do with Alfie,” he states and crosses his arms defensively over his chest as he looks to his older brother. Though he’s not sure why he’s even asking: of course it’s about Alfie. Deciding that he will need more whiskey to survive another one of these talks, he reaches for the bottle on the table and fills a glass. Arthur shakes his head no when he offers to refill his.

“No, I want to do this… more or less sober.”

“Alright, you’re starting to scare me.”

Arthur raises his hands in a silencing gesture, and Tommy humours him, leaning back in his seat and looking expectantly at him. It’s clear that Arthur is trying to figure out where to begin, and it takes him another few moments of staring intently at his empty glass before he finally speaks.

“I know that I haven’t always been a very good older brother.”

Tommy opens his mouth to say something about this, but Arthur once again raises his hands and he –as he so very rarely does- decides to say nothing.

“No, I’ve prepared this whole thing, just let me talk. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve not exactly lived up to my role as being the older, you know, more responsible brother. The whole, “man of the household” thing. And I know that you’ve always felt that you need to sort of hold this family together, while I’ve just been a fucking mess.”

He pauses and chuckles humourlessly, and Tommy wants to tell him that it’s all fine. Who cares about the ridiculous roles? He’s always known Arthur has tried to be a good brother, done his best for the family. And that’s more than enough. He wants to say this, but Arthur clearly has a whole speech prepared; better to just let him finish. Arthur taps the glass with his forefinger nervously, but his voice is remarkably steady as he continues.

“And now I’m afraid that my past… instable behaviour has made you feel like you can’t talk to me, and tell me when something’s wrong. Because I’m known to not be very constructive in bad situations.”

A sudden suspicion creeps up on Tommy, and he can’t help interrupting him. “Are you worried about the business, is that what this is about? Do you feel-“

“Fuck the business,” Arthur says firmly, but his voice holds no anger. “This is just about you. Not the racing or the betting, or the guns. Just you.”

This conversation is not going in the direction Tommy expected, and he’s not sure how to feel about it. No, that’s a lie: he is equal parts worried and uncomfortable. He quickly drains his whiskey glass and as Arthur takes a deep breath in order to continue, he refills it just as fast.

“I’m afraid that you’re hiding things,” Arthur says. “Because you think that I’d do something insane if you told me. But I just want you to know, that you don’t have to handle everything alone. If there is ever something you want to talk about… Something that’s happened, you can come to me, and I’ll try to support you in whatever way you need.”

“Arthur,” Tommy says with what’s only partially feigned concerned. He is utterly confused by this whole situation. “Do you think I’m pregnant?”

Arthur lets out a dry laugh. “I know that this family’s go- to coping mechanism is sarcasm, so I won’t blame you for ruining my heartfelt speech. And no, to clarify, I don’t think that you’re pregnant.”

Tommy sighs and looks tiredly at his older brother. “What is this really about, Arthur?”

“Solomons…” Arthur says abruptly. “Is he good to you?” He looks him in the eye for the first time since he entered the kitchen, with such sincerity that Tommy can’t bear to make some inappropriate comment.

“Yes, he’s very good to me,” he says softly instead and can’t help the slight smile that crosses his lips. A crease has appeared between Arthur’s eyebrows.

“And he never… lays hand on you?” he asks, the words sounding rehearsed but also painfully worried.

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to frown, and he straightens up in his seat when all the pieces suddenly fall into place. “You think he hits me?”

“Does he?” Arthur stares intently at him, as if trying to find the answer in his eyes.

“No,” Tommy exclaims. “Arthur, he would never do that. I know he’s intimidating, and that you and John see him as some sort of threat- and that we have this whole jargon, but he’d never actually hurt me. “

“What happened to your face then?” Arthur asks almost accusingly. “Where did that bruise come from? And the gash?”

And just like that, the situation has turned so absurd that Tommy can’t help but laugh. Arthur looks mildly offended.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy quickly tries to gather himself. “Arthur, I know I don’t say this a lot –mostly because it often isn’t true- but I appreciate your concern. And I realize it took some guts for you to have this conversation. However this-“ he gestures to the injury over his right eyebrow. “Is just due to my own failed attempts at being a normal functioning person. I just tried to get a bloody teacup on the top shelf in the kitchen the other day-“

“You could never reach the top shelf,” Arthur interrupts him with honest confusion, as if he actually is highly surprised Tommy would even try. Tommy glares at him.

“That’s beside the point. But no, I can’t, so it fell and hit me in the forehead. Hence the gash, and later the bruise. And also the broken chair that I may have thrown when Alfie suggested that I’d use one to step on.”

There is a moment of silence while Arthur just stares blankly at him. Then, he breaks into a laugh that quickly turns rather hysterical. And maybe it’s the tension in the room suddenly melting away, or the alcohol, but Tommy laughs too.

“What on earth are you two doing?”

Polly is suddenly standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing in a dressing-gown and with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m sorry Pol, did we wake you up?” Arthur wheezes out and takes a deep breath in a clear attempt at calming himself down without much success.

“No, not at all. I’m always up in the middle of the night, for no other reason than to ruin the next day,” Polly says dryly.

“Sorry. We just needed to sort something out. We’ll be quiet,” Tommy promises.

Polly sighs, but a faint smile flashes across her lips before she turns to leave, muttering under her breath that: “This family is a fucking train-wreck.”

“Tomorrow I’m moving things from the top shelves, as my first duty as ‘good big brother’,” Arthur states and throws an arm across Tommy’s shoulder to pull him into a sort of half-embrace. Tommy lets him.


End file.
